


Lessons in Comparison and Contrast

by prairiecrow



Series: Lessons in Humanity [13]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: A.I. to Human, Character Study, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Group Marriage, Human Jarvis (Iron Man movies), M/M, Myer-Briggs, Threesome - M/M/M, watching while sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:52:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inventor, the Mastermind, and the Counsellor — individually they are undeniably powerful, but together… (Or, Tony Watches His Beautiful Boys Sleep, and Ponders Matters Both Carnal and Spiritual.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in Comparison and Contrast

Tony had things to do and places to be on this chilly New York winter morning — specifically, a global robotics conference at the Hilton where he was headlining as the keynote speaker — and consequently he'd snapped wide awake at around 4 a.m. with a brilliant new critique of Hiroshi Ishiguro's work blazing in his forebrain and no hope in Hell of getting back to sleep again. It had taken him about half an hour to become resigned to the inevitable (mostly because his current position, lounging between two other warm sleeping bodies, had been so supremely comfortable), but in the end he'd slipped carefully out of his luxurious bed and ghosted off to the bathroom, where a shower and a shave and the act of carefully styling of his hair to just the right mix of sartorial and casual had brought him fully into the waking world.  

As he padded back into the darkened bedroom, barefoot and naked except for a plush towel wrapped around his waist, the part of his mind not engaged in honing his Ishiguro attack was idly contemplating having JAMES order up coffee and breakfast in the living room — no need to wake anyone else up yet, not with the conference still nearly four hours away — when he was abruptly pulled out of his intellectual preoccupation by the gravitational force of something purely physical: namely, the two gorgeous blonds still inhabiting his bed. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring, because although the mattress was easily wide enough to accommodate three sprawling bodies and Tony's departure had left a full person's-width of space between them, Jarvis and Steve were no longer apart: they'd come snugly together in the space Tony had formerly occupied, with Jarvis draped along Steve's right side as Steve lay supine, both of them clearly deeply asleep.  

Tony stared, because their unconscious posture revealed so much. The crown of Jarvis's head was tucked under the protective dip of Steve's chin, the former A.I.'s right arm wrapped around the super-soldier's waist while Steve's right arm encircled Jarvis's shoulders, cradling the smaller man close to that wonderfully broad chest — and the loose clasp of Steve's large left hand on Jarvis's right forearm recalled so many memories to Tony's mind, of times when those fingers had gripped forcefully enough to leave bruises while Jarvis cried out eagerly and begged for _more, please Captain_ , _deeper, harder…_  

The linen sheet draped low over their hips revealed a tantalizing glimpse both of Jarvis's ass-cleft and Steve's dense thatch of pubic hair above the angle of Jarvis's bent thigh — their limp cocks were probably touching, perhaps even starting to stiffen both with proximity and with morning wood. Tony's breathing quickened and his mouth went dry, a wave of heat flowing through his body and filling his own dick at the prospect of shedding his towel and crossing to the bed, of climbing into it and slipping his right hand under the sheet to cup and squeeze Jarvis's deliciously rounded buttocks, of pressing between them to tickle his tight little hole, of feeling Jarvis sigh and squirm drowsily while Tony leaned over to kiss Steve awake and whisper against his lips: _You can have him first, Stevie-boy — I'm feeling generous this morning…_  

Oh _hell_ yes, and anybody who tried to tell Tony Stark that he wasn't the luckiest man on the continent could go piss up a rope in Antarctica —  

— but he approached them slowly, on silent feet, because he felt strangely loathe to disturb their shared peace and the compelling picture they presented. Steve was magnificently built, a symphony of muscular power even in repose; Jarvis, in contrast, was lithe and almost boyish, his hair paler and a couple of shades more golden, his stubble betraying a touch of ginger. He kept in shape with stationary cycling and light weight training, resulting in smooth contours of muscle in comparison to Steve's more aggressive bulk, and between the two of them Tony got to enjoy the best of both body types — not to mention being able to experience both Steve's relentlessly commanding dominance and Jarvis's gorgeous wholehearted submissiveness, depending on whether he was in the mood to catch or to pitch. They took good care of him… and more importantly, they took care of each other, because at heart they shared more in common between them than either of them did with Tony Stark, even though Tony was the glue that held their relationship together. 

Long ago, just for the hell of it, Tony had taken the full Myer-Briggs personality type indicator test — and he'd come out so far up the Extroverted end of the scale that there probably wasn't a font size big enough to express the degree of "E" he embodied. Both Jarvis and Steve, he was convinced, would register as Introverts in that particular system: Jarvis lived in a world of ideas and calculations where he was happiest working on his own, and Steve, while charismatic and effective in his role as Captain America, was at heart an intensely private individual who preferred to avoid the spotlight. Both of them would rather curl up with a good book or socialize with a very small circle of friends than attend one of the massive parties Tony thrived upon, and Tony couldn't count the number of times (well, actually he could, and it was twenty-two) that he'd come home to his penthouse after a long day of dazzling the public to find both Jarvis and Steve ensconced in Jarvis's art room, each seated at his own drawing board while they silently worked on their individual projects, content in each other's company. There was an unspoken sympathy between them that Tony could recognize but not entirely share: they were creatures of a qualitatively different kind from himself, inward-directed and self-effacing… 

… but they balanced out his more extravagant qualities, no question about it. They kept him grounded when his racing mind and wild heart threatened to spin out of control. They held him steady in the face of a stormy and dangerous world, and they took him to their hearts when the pain of living became too much to bear. They were his shelter, his joy, his most priceless possessions — a treasure that money alone could never buy. Together, they completed him.  

And he loved them for it — oh God, how he loved them! He could say it to Jarvis easily and fluently, but to Steve… well, he was getting better, or at least he was trying. Some days it felt like that was too damned little to give in return for all that they did for him… but then he would look into their eyes, two shades of complementary blue, and he could clearly see that for them, his devotion was more than enough. He could feel their love for him in return, offered without stint or measure, and he rejoiced so fiercely that it was all he could do not to roar their names from the rooftops (too dangerous, especially for Jarvis, but he'd be lying if he didn't admit to dreaming of walking out into the world with both of them on his arm, his heart swelling with pride more radiant than the sun and the moon combined). 

Wrapped in their mutual embrace, holding them both as close as he possibly could, sharing kisses and moans and all the permutations of ecstasy, he found a type of peace he'd never suspected existed — not even with Jarvis alone, although Jarvis was his in ways that Steve could never be. Jarvis had been his creation and would always belong to him body and soul, but it was Steve who had proven to be the final piece to the puzzle: Steve, with his bravery and altruism and inherent compassionate goodness, had been the catalyst that fused their three separate units into a whole exponentially greater than the sum of its parts.  

The Inventor, the Mastermind, and the Counsellor — individually they were undeniably powerful, but together… 

Tony smiled, loosening the towel to let it fall at his feet as he reached the bed. He crawled onto it, running his right hand down the smooth soft skin of Jarvis's back, leaning in to taste Steve's perfectly sculpted lips. They woke to his touch like flowers opening to the first rays of the rising sun — his beautiful boys, possessed and possessing, their shared warmth the place that Tony would always call _home_. 

Maybe Steve's notion of putting rings on everybody's fingers wasn't so crazy, after all. 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I suspect that Tony is an ENTP, that Jarvis is an INTJ, and Steve is an INFJ in the Myer-Briggs system.


End file.
